


Dessert

by thatcrazyhippie



Series: Jake and Cassie's Sex Files [10]
Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Kitchen Sex, Sex, Table Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27491848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatcrazyhippie/pseuds/thatcrazyhippie
Summary: Jake's cooking dinner for Cassie, only for her to come prancing in, in his shirt and make him decide that he'd rather have dessert first.
Relationships: Cassandra Cillian/Jacob "Jake" Stone
Series: Jake and Cassie's Sex Files [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1173029
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Dessert

Jacob Stone likes to believe he's a reasonably sane man. He will make no claims to being one hundred percent fine because his job requires a little insanity, a little bit of suspended disbelief (or, a lot of it, as it were), but for the most part, he doesn't think he's headed for the nearest mental institution. 

Until Cassandra Cillian and that damn shirt. 

One measly button-up shirt and he's past the point of salvaging his sanity. Of course, it's not just the fact that she's wearing _his_ shirt, it's the fact that at least four buttons are undone, revealing the simple but still pretty white bra underneath - oh, wait, there's flowers on the straps, _there's_ Cassie. And, the fact that she pranced into the kitchen in this ensemble while he was cooking. In fact, she prances right up behind him, wraps her arms around his abdomen, and lifts up to peek over his shoulder. 

"Hmmm," Cassie moans in appreciation at the lovely sight of frying chicken, garlic-parmesan mashed potatoes, and roasted asparagus. "Is that Lucy's recipe?" 

"Nothin' else compares to Mama's." Jake's voice is strained behind the false grin. It's not that he's mad at her - quite the opposite, in fact, he's desperately turned on by her casual, sexy wardrobe choice, so much so, that instead of fried chicken, he'd like to spread her across the table and skip right to dessert. 

"Yummy!" she turns her head and kisses his cheek, lingering just long enough, he can smell the clean freshness of a laundered shirt mixing with the heady vanilla perfume she wears. "Thanks for dinner." 

"I wouldn't do it for just anyone." Jake grins, tipping his head toward the wine fridge. "Why don't you pick us out a bottle of wine?" 

An enthusiastic nod and she's bending toward the fridge to choose a bottle of wine to go with dinner. It's then that he notices her ass being hugged by a pair of snug fitting panties in the same white cotton as her bra. 

"That's, uh, an interestin' outfit, sweetheart." it's a casual comment, to let her know she's noticed. 

"Oh. Thanks!" Cassie smiles happily, curling her fingers into one open flap of his shirt as she pours them both a glass of wine. "I hope you don't mind I borrowed your shirt?" 

"You look better in it than I do." Jake offers her a sly wink, pulling crispy golden pieces of chicken from a pan of boiling hot oil. "But I have a question." 

"What?" 

A flick of the knob turns the stove off and he turns on his heel to pin her with a heated stare. He's tensed up - a predator ready to take his prey - and she can see what she hadn't before. That he's hard as hell and looking for release. 

"How the hell do you expect me to eat dinner when what I really want to do is skip right to dessert?" his voice is low, dangerous, and the effect is instant. Her eyes widen, her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and she squirms a little in her seat. "Do you know what I want to do to you, right now?" 

"What?" her own voice is a soft whimper, matching the simpering eyes, and pouting lips to perfection. 

He does a double check to make sure the stove is off before he makes his way to her and grabs one side of her face while leaning down to whisper in her other ear. "I want to spread you on this table and do whatever it takes to make you forget everything but my name." 

"Then, why don't you?" Cassie breathes, careful to hold his stare as she sinks a hand between her legs and briefly rubs herself over her panties. 

If he had any resolve left, it splinters to pieces with her question, and instead of answering her, he does something he didn't think he'd ever do. A sweep of his arm and plates, silverware, and wine glasses clatter to the floor, chipping porcelain and shattering crystal on the tile. When the table is sufficiently empty, he hauls her up onto the slick wood surface, and captures her mouth in a bruising kiss. 

Deft hands tear his shirt, sending buttons flying, and ripping cotton. She shrugs out of what's left as his mouth trails down her neck and along her collarbone. The clasp of her bra is his next victim - not that she minds, it was a cheap bra, and easily replaced - before his mouth is on her breasts; rosy nipples sucked until they turn the color of those raspberries she liked on her pancakes on Sunday mornings. 

"Jacob..." she finally breathes his name in between moans and gasps. Her breasts feel sensitive and tender in the best possible way and, while his kisses trail further south, she guides one of his hands to them, groaning her approval when he squeezes and rolls them in his palm. "Just like that." 

"Lay back, Cassie." 

The words are barely out of his mouth before she's laying on the table, ready for whatever he has planned. A few minutes of maneuvering puts the shirt in a ball underneath hips and her panties on the floor with the broken dishes. Her knees bend over the edge of the table and she listens to the scrape of a chair as he pulls it up and sits down. 

"You're so wet, Cass." a light scrape of his fingers reveal smooth, freshly shaven skin wet with the slick sheen of her arousal. He rubs her lightly, almost tickling her, until she's whimpering and sighing, relief still far from sight. His fingers are covered in her arousal and he makes sure she's watching when he sucks her off of his own hand. "And, you taste like dessert." 

There's a mischief in his voice, something sparkling in his eyes. 

_Oh._

He was the boy with his hand always in the cookie jar, always wanting dessert before the main course. And, she thinks she just might reap the benefits of Jacob Stone's sweet tooth. 

... 

"...Jake...Jake..." a breathless, whimpered chant of his name is all she can manage with his tongue flat on her clit, applying firm, unyielding pressure while he sinks his fingers deep into her repeatedly. 

A hard sucks pulls her clit between his teeth. 

Cassie cries out, lifting up slightly to get a better view of what he's currently doing, but another wave of spine-shattering pleasure sends her careening back, head hitting the table beneath her but she barely notices. His fingers retreat, barely knuckle deep inside of her, and he lets his mouth do the work. 

He's relentless. 

Tongue lapping at her clit, swirling around the aching bundle of nerves. When he's exploited that for all the desperate whimpers, he switches tactics; flattening his tongue and scraping his teeth. 

"Jacob!" Cassie finally sobs. 

Jake just grins. 

She whimpers at the loss of his fingers inside her, desperate for _something_ to offer some form of relief from the merciless but exquisite torture he was lavishing her with. She _needed_ to orgasm, but to no avail. Every time she got close, he pulled back, made her come down.

Another swirl and his tongue moves down, sinking inside of her. 

The funny thing about synesthesia is that it's triggered by moments of _too much_. And, this definitely qualifies, but it's _too, too much,_ to the point that all she sees is blinding white as her back bows up in a perfect arch, all quivering muscles and blown out nerves. The orgasm splinters down her spine, feels like it might be melting her from the inside out, and she can only vaguely hear Jacob pulling her back. 

"Jake?" she finally whimpers when she's come back down. 

"I'm here, baby." Jake murmurs, stroking her hair. "You okay?" 

"That's never happened before." Cassie breathes, heavy blue eyes barely able to make out the blurred form of her boyfriend. "I've never had an orgasm like that. Definitely didn't remember my own name." 

Jacob can't help but laugh a little at his adorable girlfriend, scooping her up, and heading for the bathroom to get her in a bath and soothe her nerves. Round two happens on the bathroom floor after helping her out of the bathtub gives a glimpse of him in a wet t-shirt (he might have lifted her out of the tub like the noble gentleman that he is). 

For the record, in another life. 

Cassandra Cillian was _one hell of a cowgirl._


End file.
